Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1887-08-23

that David had ever seen. From beneath
a mass of glorious red-brown hair, looked
a pair of the merriest, brightest blue eyes
in all the world. The nose, with its slight
tendency to turn saucily upward, the
dimpled chin. and the laughing mouth
with its sweet, red lips, made a picture
which dazzled and bewildered David.
IL don't know" he stammered. 1.-The
ways of this place are strange to me;
only came into Venice this morning"
Then he bent over his soup, feeling
strangely shy and embarrassed.
Indeed Do you intend to remain here
long?"
The girls manner was, in its frank
friendlness, a broad contrast toLDavid's.
1t was hardly. perhaps. the manner usual
ly adopted by ladies in addressing a
stranger of the other sex, but its fearless
ease had in it nothing deserving the mys-
terious adjective, east"
About week. Then | am going to
Florence"
ITO Florence!" The girl turned on
David rapid, inquiring glance. "Why
| believe" she said, suddenly laying down
her spoon, and laughing an amused little
laugh, THAT know who you are"
WHO am ?''
Eyes. How odd that I should have
come upon me SO soon. You are Mrs.
Wilton's nephew, David Murray"
"Did you gain that piece of information
from your fellow fairies % David had suf.
ficiently overcome his shyness to venture
on tone of mild pleasantly, and some
intinitesimal portion of the admiration
w hi.h ha toll fo,pd int
'From no one more fairy-like than
Mrs. Wilton herself. am wintering in
Florence with friend, the lady opposite
US" David glanced across the table to-
ward plum colored silk dress and lace
cap. 81 know your aunt we'll. My friend
and | are in Venice for short holiday.
Mrs. Wilton told us that you were coming
to the 'Angleterre,' and | determined 10
look out for you. You wonder at my in
terest. Well, Mrs. Wilton told ne, too, -
in tone of mock solemnty, "about Miss
Balfour, and Miss Balfour and happen
to be great friends.''
"What about Miss Balfour ?n asked
David, huskily.
joyce had retired into the background
of his memory. He was almost angry
with this beautiful stranger for bringing
her again into prominence. He had sent
away his soup plate, half empty, and he
waved an impatient refusal to a waiter
who approached with the fish.
"Oh, you know" with a gay laugh.
"You are going to Florence in the char
acter of conquering hero, to carry off our
heiress. Joyce Balfour."
The laugh nettled David. He colored
crimson.
ut pleases you," he said crumbling his
bread impatiently, and speakir- under his
breath, ''to make merry at my expense.
But you are wrong in your statement. |
don't think myself conquering hero. |
am going to Florence, at Mrs. Wilton's
request to make her neice's acquaint-
ance-nothing more. Probably | shall
not like Miss Balfour-very probably she
will not like me. Mrs. Wilton has no
right to make schemes for other people.
without their consent, and then to proclaim
those schemes as certainties to all the
world"
Dear, dear She doesn't proclaim her
sentiments to all the world. How fiery
you are. am, as | said, friend of the
family; it's only natural that Mrs. Wilton
should be little confidential to me-"
Then the subject of Mrs. Batour was
allowed to drop. But other subjects pre-
scented themselves, and conversation was
we'll sustained through the long dinner.
When at last the girl arose, turned to her
neighbor with bright little motion OF the
head-between bow and nod-and
passed out of the room in the company
of the lady in the plum colored silk, who
honored the young girl with searching
glance.
David was astonished to remember how
voluble he had been. Now that his exer-
tons were over, he wondered what to do
with himself, and when he should see the
friendly stranger again. He hung about
the reading-room, but she was not there.
He toiled mp to his bed room, looked up
paper and pencil, and began sonnet on
pair of blue eyes, LETT it unfinished and
wandered out. The moon was shining on
the open water before the Riva degli
Schiavoni; the fishing boats. with their
picturesque sails, stood IN silver light.
But David did not linger-as he once
would have lingered-to dream over the
scene he hurried on to the frequented
Piazza of st. Mark. There he watched
the crowds passing up and down. or, seat
ed outside the cafes, the officers with jing-
ling swords, the flower girls. the artists
models, the ladies. the newspaper ven-
doris, the match boys. and the barefooted
searcher for cigar ends. He did not tell
himself that it was in search of one face
that he scanned each group of prone
naders or idlers.
But, as in passing one of the tables be-
fore the Cafe Florion he caught sight
of the lady who bad accosted him at table
d'hote, and who was now slipping coffee
and talking to her friend, and he felt
somehow as if long search had been
rewarded. He raised his hat and passed
on, blushing like girl when he received
a responsive bow and smile. Then he
walked slowly back to the Riya to hi:
hotel, sat up late over his sonnet, tore il
up in angry discomfort, and fell asleep tc
dream of an animated face and a pair OIL
bewitching, bright blue eyes.